[Strangely, despite everything they've been through together, all the conflict in their shared past, Tim felt very safe with Jason tonight. Maybe that's why he let Jason slide bottle after bottle in front of him, why he agreed to go along with him to the bar in the first place.]
Well, ha, that was your mission for tonight, right? So - mission accomplished.
Yes it was, and I love with missions go according to plan.
[ Lucky for the both Jason had been in good temperament tonight, and it being his idea helped a lot. Though it would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about taking him to the manor and dumping him in Bruce's bed trashed and leaving him there for shits and giggles.
Instead an arm goes around Tim to steady him, as he finished handling the tab. ]
[Tim leans into Jason - he's drunk, this is fine, right? of course it's fine, it must be fine, Jason made that first move. Maybe Tim's using his current state of inebriation to lean in closer than he normally would, let his fingertips linger along the front of Jason's awfully tight shirt, but maybe Jason won't notice. He's been drinking, too - oh. Well, shit.]
Are you sure you should be driving us? I - we could take a cab, I got an app for that.
[Too quickly, he pulls his phone out of his jscket pocket, fumbles it, drops it face down on the table. Laughs as he watches it skid toward Jason.]
[ It was fine because Jason initiated contact first. One of his brows did arch feeling the finger tips lingering. He wrote it off as Timbers was both drunk and likely admiring the soft material. He stole the shirt from Grayson's closet after all. Dick had such nice clothes, and when they were black they were clearly not meant for him, clearly they were meant for Todd.
He cleared his throat when Tim spoke. Shit, well better to just go with it than admit that was what he had planned to do. ]
Shit!
[ Jay tried to catch it but that just didn't happen. He hoped it wasn't broke as he lifted the phone up. Knowing Timbers it was likely worth more than his favorite gun. ]
Yeah, I was going to call a cab once we were outside, so you could sit in the car and relax.
[ Liar. Though now he was poking through Tim's phone now that it's in his hand.]
[Welllll, no wonder the shirt's so damn tight, if it was lifted from Dick. Silly Jason.
Don't worry about the phone, though - it's got a military-grade shock-absorbing case and screen protector, a little tumble along a table isn't enough to cause any damage. The lock screen requires a passcode, of course - is Jason guessing what Tim's might be?]
I'm already relaxed, Jason. See?
[He holds up an arm in front of him, waves it loosely up and down to show just how wobbly he is. Laughs again, and turns his face into Jason's chest.]
[ No one was complaining about his tight clothes. They looked good on his body, maybe even better on the floor.
He tried a few passwords as he started to lead Tim out of the bar. 'Robin' 'Dick' 'daddyissues' Before he eyed Tim a moment and typed in '1048' instead. The code to the grandfather clock to get to the cave. When or if those all failed he held it to Tim. ]
Can't call us a cab if your phones locked, Timbers. Well, tonight I learned your a light weight. See, learning new shit everyday.
[Jason, please - none of those are secure passcodes. He takes the phone back from Jason, grinning widely, and sneak-types in the correct code, a string of randomized letters and numbers he changes every three weeks.]
Well, of course I'm a lightweight, Jason. I'm underage.
[ was he serious, who even knew. He shook his head at the password. Be used finger prints or character names from obscure books. Taking the phone he used the app to order then a cab. Leaning him and Tim against the car while they waited. ]
[Tim laughs - he wouldn't be surprised, honestly, if that claim were true. He lets Jason lead him out to the car, leans back against the car with him, snakes his arm around the back of Jason's waist and leans into him as they wait. He feels tingly-good, warm, unstoppable.]
'Syour car gonna be OK here overnight? [He leans up to Jason's ear, cups his free hand around his mouth, fake-whispers, like this is a secret:] This is Crime Alley.
[ No one would ever know either. Jason laughed a bit as he leaned against the car, keeping his arm around Tim as he rolled his eyes. ]
My car's going to be just fine here, Timbers, one I know the owner, two there's a kill-switch the are not getting far if they even manage to get her turned over.
You sure? I mean, I heard this is a pretty rough neighborhood. Heard not even the Batmobile was safe here.
[He's still laughing - it's a joke, see? - except Tim realizes, a little too slowly, that it was a dumb thing to say. Not a joking matter, because bringing up Bruce around Jason is a just asking for trouble. Tim stops laughing, pulls his arms in on himself, buries his face behind both hands with a frustrated groan.]
Sorry, I - I'm sorry, Jason, I'm drunk, I don't - I don't know what I'm saying.
[ Jason started to let out an amused noise until Tim made that comment. He stiffens despite his arm still around Tim. He has half a mind to shove Tim away but he had made a fucking promise and at times he wanted to fight the image that he wasn't to be trusted. He took a breath before shifting his arm to slip it from Tim's shoulder to his neck. A headlock no less.]
Listen here, Timbers, and listen well. [ His voice had that dangerous edge to it.] That shit only happened once and your talking to the bastard that did it. Don't bring that shit up again. Don't bring him up unless you want to walk your ass all the way home drunk. Understood?
[Tim flinches, expecting a more violent response than being grabbed in a headlock. If he were thinking straight - if he weren't drunk and panicking, he might be able to evade, fight back. He's trained for this sort of thing, getting out of headlocks, taking on bigger and stronger opponents than himself, but the fear that he's just done irreparable harm with letting his stupid mouth run has him paralyzed, incapable of doing anything but submitting to Jason and gasping for breath between the rush of words tumbling out of his mouth.]
I know, Jason - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't - I didn't mean anything, I -
[I fucked up, things were sort of OK and now they're not, I ruined it, and he can taste the bile rising up in the back of his throat. This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake.]
[ It doesn't take more than a second into Tim speaking for Jay to realize that Tim's not only far more trashed than he realized, but also taking him way to serious. Granted, with the beatings he'd given in the past he couldn't fault his replacement.
He moves his arms to Tim's shoulders and twists him both away from himself and the car. ]
[Tim doesn't need much encouragement; almost immediately after Jason releases his hold on Tim, he's doubled over, heaving up the contents of his stomach onto the pavement - which is mostly the beer, because guess who forgot to eat before this outing! TIM DRAKE IS NOT GOOD AT DRINKING OK. Once the worst of it is over, hands still gripping his knees, he inhales shaky breath after shaky breath and tries to shove down the new, sick feeling of embarrassment washing over him. He drags the back of his hand over his mouth and shakes his head.]
[ Jason slipped his phone out, a quick few pictures snapped. A chance to keep black mail on the younger bird couldn't be passed up, but once the pictures were taken he slipped the phone away and waited for Tim to finish. ]
Stop apologizing, Timbers, Jeeze, you missed me, you missed the car. You didn't offend me either, I was kidding. Now, stand up, cause once this cab comes were getting you some take out and going to a hotel so you can eat and sleep this off.
[Tim squints at Jason. He was pretty sure he fucked up bad with his stupid mouth, but ... Jason's not mad? Weird, but OK. He'll take it. He's too drunk to do anything but feel relieved.]
A hotel? Shouldn't you just drop me off at my place?
[He coughs, tries to spit the taste of beer-flavored vomit out of his mouth.]
[ Jason shook his head amused at Tim's wording as he unlocked the car and pulled something out, tossing a small tin Tim's way. Breath mints. The door was locked and shut back as he looked up to see a car approching hoping it was their cab. ]
Fuck that, like I want to go anywhere where any of the other's can walk in and ask me whats wrong with you. Besides, hotels have nice beds and all doors open for Mr. Wayne-Drake.
[Tim fumbles the catch on the tin of mints but recovers before they hit the ground. Grateful, he pries the tin open, pops three mints in his mouth, and walks the tin back over to Jason, wobbly on his feet but definitely feeling better.]
No one's dropping in on me tonight, Jason. I told you.
[But his apartment is small, a temporary space, because he doesn't know how long - or if - he's going to stay in Gotham. A hotel doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Tim digs into his pocket for his phone and pulls up another app - yes, he's got an app for that, too - to search for available nearby hotels. There's a good one with a vacancy not too far away; he books it as the cab pulls up to a halt in front of the bar.]
I think this is us. We can skip the takeout, there's room service.
[Honestly, Tim would just be happy to lie down until everything stops spinning.]
[Tim's already having some regrets about tonight, but they're about his alcohol intake and the gaffe with bringing up Bruce to Jason, not about spending time with Jason. After giving the driver directions, he's quiet during the cab ride, slumped in the seat with a two fingers pressed over his mouth, eyes on the cityscape out the window as it passes, busy running everything that's happened tonight through his mind as well as can be expected after four beers and very little tolerance for booze. When they reach the hotel, he beelines for the reception desk, turns on the Timothy Drake-Wayne smile, slides his credit card to the concierge, and tries not to think how this must look: two guys checking in together this late at night with no luggage, obviously (in his case, at least, Tim's pretty sure he sucks at hiding it) drunk.
... Would it be the worst thing, Tim wonders, fleetingly, keycard in hand and heading up the elevator with Jason at his side, if people thought he and Jason were together? His stomach does a flip, either from the beer or the elevator or the thought of such a scenario - possibly all of the above. His first answer to himself is I'm tired, and the second is I'm way too drunk for this, and the third and final answer is a resounding No.
He opens the door to the room with a swish and click of the keycard and heads straight for the bed, planting face down on the mattress with a quiet groan. It seems to have escaped his notice, for the moment, that there's only one bed in the room.]
[ For his part Jason stayed quiet poking at his phone after popping a couple of the mints into his own month. Never hurt to be minty fresh. The ride had been uneventful but he trusted Tim not to upchuck in the cab. He hovered not to far from Tim as he checked in, head down looking through the phone. Nothing unusual about him, even his nice clothes wouldn't give to much of a description to go off of. Still, he had no shame about it, he knew nothing shameful would happen. Tim was drunk and this was far from Jason's first rodeo with judging women watching him walk into hotels.
It wasn't the worst thing. Much worse things could happen, and unlike Tim, Jason had none of these concerns. He wasn't even really bothered by the bringing up of Bruce. Hell, much worse could have been said he knew it was the liquor talking. Stepping in, he tugged off his leather jacket he had collected from the car and tossed it over a chair, stretching his arms over his head as he walked through giving the place a one over.]
Looks like were sharing the bed, Timbers. [ He replied easily as he turned and flopped across the mattress, hotel beds were always perfect.] I believe you promised me room service, Mr. Wayne-Drake.
[Tim groans into the mattress again - why did he overlook such a simple detail? because he's drunk, that's why - and turns his head in Jason's direction. Without looking, he points in the general direction of the phone.]
You can order whatever you want, it'll be billed to my card. I'm not hungry.
[Ignoring the bed problem for the moment. It's big enough to share - it'll probably be fine.]
You okay Timbo? And your scrawny ass is eating or you'll feel like you were beat with a crowbar in the morning. Trust me, I know.
[ He asked as he shifed and pushed himself up moveing over to the phone to call in a few things that would be greasy and a few frivilois things. Hanging up and tagging his boots off to sit back in the chair and keep a close eye on the little bird.]
[Hm. That seems like it might be the kind of joke that only Jason is allowed to make. Tim's judgment is off tonight, and he knows it, so he decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he rolls onto his side to face Jason, head propped up in his hand.]
I'm fine. Just - feel a little queasy still. Wouldn't want to puke on the bed in the middle of the night.
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Well, ha, that was your mission for tonight, right? So - mission accomplished.
[He stands, swaying.] Who-ooah.
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[ Lucky for the both Jason had been in good temperament tonight, and it being his idea helped a lot. Though it would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about taking him to the manor and dumping him in Bruce's bed trashed and leaving him there for shits and giggles.
Instead an arm goes around Tim to steady him, as he finished handling the tab. ]
Easy there, let's get you to the car.
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Are you sure you should be driving us? I - we could take a cab, I got an app for that.
[Too quickly, he pulls his phone out of his jscket pocket, fumbles it, drops it face down on the table. Laughs as he watches it skid toward Jason.]
Oops. Butterfingers.
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He cleared his throat when Tim spoke. Shit, well better to just go with it than admit that was what he had planned to do. ]
Shit!
[ Jay tried to catch it but that just didn't happen. He hoped it wasn't broke as he lifted the phone up. Knowing Timbers it was likely worth more than his favorite gun. ]
Yeah, I was going to call a cab once we were outside, so you could sit in the car and relax.
[ Liar. Though now he was poking through Tim's phone now that it's in his hand.]
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Don't worry about the phone, though - it's got a military-grade shock-absorbing case and screen protector, a little tumble along a table isn't enough to cause any damage. The lock screen requires a passcode, of course - is Jason guessing what Tim's might be?]
I'm already relaxed, Jason. See?
[He holds up an arm in front of him, waves it loosely up and down to show just how wobbly he is. Laughs again, and turns his face into Jason's chest.]
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He tried a few passwords as he started to lead Tim out of the bar. 'Robin' 'Dick' 'daddyissues' Before he eyed Tim a moment and typed in '1048' instead. The code to the grandfather clock to get to the cave. When or if those all failed he held it to Tim. ]
Can't call us a cab if your phones locked, Timbers. Well, tonight I learned your a light weight. See, learning new shit everyday.
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Well, of course I'm a lightweight, Jason. I'm underage.
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[ was he serious, who even knew. He shook his head at the password. Be used finger prints or character names from obscure books. Taking the phone he used the app to order then a cab. Leaning him and Tim against the car while they waited. ]
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'Syour car gonna be OK here overnight? [He leans up to Jason's ear, cups his free hand around his mouth, fake-whispers, like this is a secret:] This is Crime Alley.
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My car's going to be just fine here, Timbers, one I know the owner, two there's a kill-switch the are not getting far if they even manage to get her turned over.
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[He's still laughing - it's a joke, see? - except Tim realizes, a little too slowly, that it was a dumb thing to say. Not a joking matter, because bringing up Bruce around Jason is a just asking for trouble. Tim stops laughing, pulls his arms in on himself, buries his face behind both hands with a frustrated groan.]
Sorry, I - I'm sorry, Jason, I'm drunk, I don't - I don't know what I'm saying.
[Way to heck this one up, Drake. Nice job.]
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Listen here, Timbers, and listen well. [ His voice had that dangerous edge to it.] That shit only happened once and your talking to the bastard that did it. Don't bring that shit up again. Don't bring him up unless you want to walk your ass all the way home drunk. Understood?
[ He couldn't just let it go.]
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I know, Jason - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't - I didn't mean anything, I -
[I fucked up, things were sort of OK and now they're not, I ruined it, and he can taste the bile rising up in the back of his throat. This was a mistake. All of this was a mistake.]
I - I think - I'm gonna be sick.
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He moves his arms to Tim's shoulders and twists him both away from himself and the car. ]
Go on, kid, puke it all up. You'll feel better.
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Sorry ... sorry, I'm sorry ...
[That seems to be all he can say at the moment.]
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Stop apologizing, Timbers, Jeeze, you missed me, you missed the car. You didn't offend me either, I was kidding. Now, stand up, cause once this cab comes were getting you some take out and going to a hotel so you can eat and sleep this off.
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A hotel? Shouldn't you just drop me off at my place?
[He coughs, tries to spit the taste of beer-flavored vomit out of his mouth.]
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Fuck that, like I want to go anywhere where any of the other's can walk in and ask me whats wrong with you. Besides, hotels have nice beds and all doors open for Mr. Wayne-Drake.
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No one's dropping in on me tonight, Jason. I told you.
[But his apartment is small, a temporary space, because he doesn't know how long - or if - he's going to stay in Gotham. A hotel doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Tim digs into his pocket for his phone and pulls up another app - yes, he's got an app for that, too - to search for available nearby hotels. There's a good one with a vacancy not too far away; he books it as the cab pulls up to a halt in front of the bar.]
I think this is us. We can skip the takeout, there's room service.
[Honestly, Tim would just be happy to lie down until everything stops spinning.]
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You never know with them.
[ He shrugged some, before he stepped close watching Tim work the app, and opened the door once Tim said he thought it was for them.]
You had me at room service. Your going to regret this come morning. Let's go. After you, Timbers.
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... Would it be the worst thing, Tim wonders, fleetingly, keycard in hand and heading up the elevator with Jason at his side, if people thought he and Jason were together? His stomach does a flip, either from the beer or the elevator or the thought of such a scenario - possibly all of the above. His first answer to himself is I'm tired, and the second is I'm way too drunk for this, and the third and final answer is a resounding No.
He opens the door to the room with a swish and click of the keycard and heads straight for the bed, planting face down on the mattress with a quiet groan. It seems to have escaped his notice, for the moment, that there's only one bed in the room.]
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It wasn't the worst thing. Much worse things could happen, and unlike Tim, Jason had none of these concerns. He wasn't even really bothered by the bringing up of Bruce. Hell, much worse could have been said he knew it was the liquor talking. Stepping in, he tugged off his leather jacket he had collected from the car and tossed it over a chair, stretching his arms over his head as he walked through giving the place a one over.]
Looks like were sharing the bed, Timbers. [ He replied easily as he turned and flopped across the mattress, hotel beds were always perfect.] I believe you promised me room service, Mr. Wayne-Drake.
[ He teased.]
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You can order whatever you want, it'll be billed to my card. I'm not hungry.
[Ignoring the bed problem for the moment. It's big enough to share - it'll probably be fine.]
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[ He asked as he shifed and pushed himself up moveing over to the phone to call in a few things that would be greasy and a few frivilois things. Hanging up and tagging his boots off to sit back in the chair and keep a close eye on the little bird.]
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[Hm. That seems like it might be the kind of joke that only Jason is allowed to make. Tim's judgment is off tonight, and he knows it, so he decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he rolls onto his side to face Jason, head propped up in his hand.]
I'm fine. Just - feel a little queasy still. Wouldn't want to puke on the bed in the middle of the night.
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switching to pb account for this <3
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